AKA This Is Where The Fun Starts
by HonestToBlogJuno
Summary: An interpretation of the events leading up to the death of Reva Connors, and Kilgrave. Or, so Jessica thought. Some mature themes and language.
1. Chapter 1

A whole year. That's long enough to do just about anything. Travel the world, move apartments, even make a new life, if you wanted. Except Jessica Jones didn't want that. Any of it.  
But she did.  
She could have made a dozen lists of things she hadn't wanted to do in that year; move out of her apartment, stop talking to Trish, keep her hair short, wear bright dresses and purple gowns- the list could go on forever, it felt. But, what she wished she could escape most of all was Kilgrave. She hated that goddamn psychopath more than anything, and all with a smile on her face that she couldn't wipe off. She had heard her parents tell her countless times that "hate was a strong word," but she could never make it strong enough. Without a doubt, this had been the worst year of her life. And it just seemed to keep going.  
"Come along Jessica," his chipper voice requested, beckoning the woman with an outstretched arm.  
"Take my hand."  
Her hand slipped into his, fingers lacing into his obediently. Her face was dull and empty, the hollows of her cheeks echoing down to her jaw. Kilgrave glanced over at her, grimacing for a split second at the transparent deadness of her face.  
"Well there's no need to make a fuss, darling," he quipped, pretending to mistake her expression for one of boredom.  
"Your only job is to make sure she comes with us." As if he could do that himself.

"How about a smile?" He squeezed her hand with a cheerfully expectant expression.  
'Screw you' she thought, before an overwhelming urge to flash him a winning smile washed over her mind. Her plump lips were painted a sterile red, which she wanted to wipe onto the back of her hand. He insisted it framed her face, and so, it stayed on.  
Nodding in satisfaction, the man redirected his attention to the sparking high-rise that towered over them, casting an intimidating shade over the pair. He craned his neck upward, squinting and parting his lips with the expression. His eyes ran up the reflective glass, resting finally at the sharply rectangular top. Yep, this was the place. He swallowed in a mix of anticipation and somber dread. He finally had the woman who-  
He found himself shoved to the side, pulling a stumbling Jessica limply with him.  
"Get out of the damn sidewalk," the grey-suited man barked, beginning to continue his determined walk to work.  
"You get out of the bloody sidewalk," he snapped angrily. The man stopped suddenly, and changed his course, drifting off of the pavement and onto the curb of the road. A bustling yellow taxi honked loudly, swerving to avoid the man now continuing his journey in the gutter between the traffic and the pedestrians. Kilgrave rolled his eyes. He looked over at Jessica, still smiling sweetly, and let out a long exhale. Time to get to work.

The couple approached the door, and Kilgrave pulled Jessica closer to him, moving his face within inches of her neck. The smell of her hair was intoxicating, and he felt his stomach pulling in excitement. After this, they would celebrate. He let his nose brush her earlobe, and she flinched. Kilgrave frowned deeply.

"Take my arm." He whispered, and she did, draping one hand over the indigo threading of his blazer, and supporting her grip with the other. He pulled his head away and straightened his posture, beginning to move forward confidently once again. Within a number of feet, they were stopped by a door man of intimidating stature, who began to open his mouth to speak.

Jessica wanted to be sick. Did he seriously just smell her hair? In the street? Not only was that immensely creepy, it also showed a smug sense of exhibitionism that made her stomach turn. That idiot probably made some cocky quip to himself too. Yet, as they approached the building, she found herself clinging to her arm like some sort of lost child, a brittle smile pasted across her face. Every time he told her to smile, the less she imagined she would ever be able to do so naturally again. That dude was like a real-life dementor. The smiling wasn't so bad as the kissing, though. Oh god, she hated kissing him. "A kiss, Jessica," he would command absently, eyes fixed on a newspaper. "How about a peck?" The thing she found most disturbing was the duality of her feelings. Every cell in her body screamed to run away, to scream, "Don't touch me," to push him away with the full force of her strength, but as soon as he made a request, a rosy haze flooded her vision. Her thoughts changed abruptly to the intense desire to do whatever tedious task he had asked of her, as if it were the most rewarding thing in the world. All the while, like a little echo in her head, she heard "stop, don't do it, please stop," and that was the part that disgusted her the most. She was always the strongest person she knew, but somehow, he was stronger. Always stronger. Even in her thoughts.

"Let us in, and don't tell anyone we were here." The doorman blinked slowly before stepping back, pulling the chrome handle of the frame with him. The two stepped inside. Kilgrave lead them to the elevator, and upon seeing the sensor embedded in the stainless steel of the wall, he beckoned a nearby woman into the space with them.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

"Josephine." She responded automatically.

"Do you live here," he looked her up and down. "Josephine?" Jessica felt her gag reflex twinge. How could he look at people like they were on display for him to take? With a pang of guilt, she felt herself being thankful that he wasn't looking at her. How shitty is that?

"On the 14th floor." She said with a smile. The burgundy of her lipstick had left a streak on her front teeth. Jessica watched Kilgrave curl his lip in disgust before settling on a face of disappointed disinterest. He looked up at his reflection in the mirror adorning the ceiling.

"Take us to the 16th." The woman pulled out her key card unquestioningly, tapping it against the sensor and pressing the button marked with a 16.

"Wait," Kilgrave looked at Jessica. "take the card from her. We may need it later."

She let go of his arm, finally, and plucked the card from Josephine's fingers.

"Well go on then, get out." He dismissed the woman with a roll of his eyes and a flick of his wrist. She spun on her heels and existed the elevator. The heavy doors closed with a soft click. Kilgrave stepped back and inspected Jessica's stature, staring at her hair, her lips, and finally resting at the card in her hand. He reached down and retrieved it, muttering to himself about sloppy lipstick as he did.

' _As If you could do any better,'_

"Finally, the two of us, about to meet _the_ Reva Connors. You should be smiling! Aren't you excited?" he was beginning to feel the anticipating boiling in his stomach.

Jessica let a thin smile flash across her face.

"No. I'd rather be anywhere but here." She replied firmly, the softest hint of desperation cutting into her voice. Kilgrave exhaled sharply.

"Be quiet." So ungrateful. "What is the point of speaking at all if you don't have anything nice to say?" She stood silently, unable to answer his question, but with a piercing resentment in her eyes that made him shift uncomfortably. Their wordless feud was abruptly ended by the cheerful ping of the elevator.

"Brighten up. This is where the _fun_ starts." Dread seeped into his voice unconsciously. Jessica's back straightened and her smile widened broadly. She really meant what she had said. She would rather be _anywhere_ than here.


	2. Chapter 2

Kilgrave pushed his shoulders back and made an effort to harden his jawline, pressing his back molars together and elevating his face so that he was looking down his nose at the hallway slightly. He forced Jessica's insulting comment out of his mind, holding his eyes shut for a moment before stepping over the cliff of the elevator platform onto the charcoal of the tiles.

"Well come on, then." He chirped, and Jessica noted his effort to look confident. That was useless. He could be curled up in a ball on the floor and people would still do what he wanted- the arrogance was purely because he wanted to be a prick and make a show of it. Or, maybe he was just an asshole naturally. Both, she decided, feeling herself following him mechanically out of the enclosure. She knew where they were headed, and the heaviness in her stomach told her to dart into the stairwell and hoist herself over the railing. She could picture herself jumping straight down the core that the stairs surrounded, hitting the ground lightly in a matter of seconds, and sprinting out the emergency exit to freedom before he could shout, "Jessica!"

Yet, like always, she found herself trailing behind Kilgrave like a dog on a leash. A dog dressed in expensive fabrics and dripping in jewelry, but a dog nonetheless. Even if your dog sleeps on a velvet pillow, it still knows it can't take a piss unless you let it. She swallowed dryly. Their destination- or, Kilgrave's destination- stood at the end of the hall; an ashy doorway bathed in the harsh fluorescence that occupied expensive buildings. She felt like her footsteps were shaking the whole building, and she almost wished that they were. If she could warn even just one person away from him, then she could be happy. It reminded her of when she used to be a hero of sorts, and she felt a little hint of satisfaction. Despite her wishes, no doors opened, and no civilians fled the floor.

She felt herself growing panicked and decided that it was better to check-out of the situation than to watch her companion torment this woman for something so small. What was it again? A USB? Was that so important he had to rip somebody's free will away from them? What could she do about it while she was pressed under his thumb? The fact that she was even with him right now made her sick to her stomach. Of course, Jessica could justify it by saying "I have no choice," or "That vengeful bastard will play even more mind games with me if I try to leave," but a part of her felt like she should have been strong enough to fight against him. That was the most painful part. No matter how badly she wanted to avoid participating in his life, her inability to leave him shot pangs of inadequacy through her, silencing her protests with a heavy shame that she couldn't shake. Being with Kilgrave was poison, and she felt it running through her veins like acid.

Being with Jessica was bliss. Every day, Kilgrave remembered in astounding disbelief the pure fate that must have worked for them to meet. He had just happened to want Szechuan food, just happened to leave around 8, just happened to see a beautiful specimen such as herself demonstrating feats of heroism and strength in his path. The coincidence was unbearable, and he was awestruck. In all of New York, he had run into two, maybe three other people with gifts, all of whom were insufferably pedestrian. In the end, it didn't matter to him that she could stop a moving car or bend a wrought-iron fence like a pipe-cleaner, it was a certain _je ne sais pas_ she carried with her; that twinkle in her eyes, the softness of her lips when she smiled, how fragrant her hair was after she had showered. He only wished she thought the same of him. Sure, he could be a little impatient, and he had a taste for the finer things in life, but he was only human. That didn't make him a bad person, as she seemed to think. He took her to Paris, Rome, Berlin- anywhere that he thought might enchant her enough to show just a smidge of genuine affection. They stayed in 5-star hotels, ate food that could be served to royalty, and still she flinched away from him when he touched her. Still, she was irresistible, and something about her pervasive stubbornness just made him want her more. The thrill was in the chase, after all. Regardless, at the end of the day he knew grimly that she didn't feel the same way as him. He had to ask her to tell him she loved him, even when they were- it didn't matter. He saw it in her eyes. When he touched her hand, when he took her to the wonders of the world, her eyes always let him know her disgust. He hated that. She was ungrateful and she didn't know what she had. He was literally the only person in the world that could give her _anything_ she wanted. Couldn't she see that? No, of course she couldn't. She thought he was a monster, but he was going to change that. All this work, and he was finally on the precipice of giving her- and anyone else who judged- concrete proof that he was the product of mistreatment and the most grotesque side of science. Anything bad he had done, or, rather, made others do, was his own parents' fault. She would see that soon. He stopped with a long inhale, and raised his fist, rapping it against the cool surface of the door. **Now** was his time.


End file.
